To Die For
by Loopstagirl
Summary: The Knight had given his life in the war with Morgana. He had fulfilled his vows and died for his King. Merlin has absolutely no idea how Arthur deals with that. Spoilers for 5x10


**Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners. **

**Sorry, know it has taken a few days to get this next one out. Merlin was being moody on me. Enjoy.**

Merlin lay back on his bed, his fingers gently stroking the ugly bruise on the side of his stomach. Kilgharrah had healed any internal damage and even knitted the skin back together, but Merlin still bore a mark from where the arrow had driven in to his side. Considering how he was feeling, he felt as if the arrow had pierced his heart instead. He had known as soon as he had reached the roof of the tower and barely even been able to summon help that Finna would not survive. How could she, going up against Morgana on her own? Not only was the witch seemingly growing more powerful by the day, there could be no telling how many Saxons she had brought with her. Merlin could only hope the brave woman had taken some of them down with her.

But even that was Merlin trying to think positive. He had a feeling he knew what Finna had done with the sword. After all, he had seen the look in her eye, knew that she would rather death than to betray him. And at least with the sword in her hand, she could make it quick and painless rather than having to endure whatever it was Morgana had planned for her, especially if co-operation was not high on Finna's list. If only he had been more careful, if only he had managed to avoid the bolt and not be shot, she might have still been alive. He might have been able to save her rather than…

Merlin let his head fall back with a groan, his hand falling still over the bruise as tears pricked at his eyes. She hadn't just died, she had died for him. Finna had died to protect him, to protect his identity and stop him from being hunted by Morgana. She had saved more than his life, and there had been nothing he could do to try and help, only run.

Now the thought had flickered across his mind, Merlin wished that the arrow had pierced his heart. How was one supposed to react knowing that someone had deliberately given their life, given up everything in order to save his? Merlin bit his lip, trying to stop a cry of pure frustration from escaping him. He was supposed to be the most powerful warlock of all times, and yet he had been forced to run like he was simply the servant everyone else saw him as. Merlin knew it was a childish thought, yet he couldn't stop himself from thinking that it just wasn't fair.

It was only hearing Gaius' voice from the main part of the chamber that stopped the warlock from pulling the blanket up over his head and hiding away in the warmth and dark, the one place that he had felt safe for as long as he could remember. He didn't want his guardian to come looking for him and risk seeing his side. Merlin had told him what had happened with Finna, but had refused to mention how close to death he had come himself. He didn't want Gaius worrying or feeling any more guilty about the whole experience than the old man already was. Yet Merlin knew he couldn't hide in here, he was late for Arthur as it was.

Sighing, Merlin dropped his shirt and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as he pulled on his boots. He wasn't sure if going to Arthur was going to make him feel better or worse, not considering Arthur was practically in the same mood as his servant. The king had not taken well the fact that Morgana had just declared war by murdering one of his knights for no other reason than the man being in the wrong place at the wrong time. As Merlin walked slowly out of his joint chambers, ignoring the worried stare he could feel burning into the back of his head, he started to think. Arthur would be the one person in the whole of Camelot that would potentially know how he was feeling – he had had men swear to protect him with their lives and die doing so for as long as Arthur would have remembered. Merlin knew his king well enough to know that the man did not take those vows lightly, nor did he just throw away the lives of his men the way some kings' had been known to do.

But how did he deal with the aftermath when one of his knights did make good on their vow and died to protect him?

Merlin had barely even noticed that his feet had carried him down the corridor and towards Arthur's chambers whilst his mind had been preoccupied. As per usual, he didn't knock but softly let himself into the room, glancing about him as he did so. As much as he considered Gwen to be a dear and true friend – now that she was back to herself, that was – Merlin was glad that she wasn't present. He needed to be allowed to sulk in peace, and always felt guilty doing it around the Queen. She had always been one to have such a positive outlook on life, and it wasn't as if he could tell her what was troubling him.

Arthur, however, was present. The king was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back and standing deadly still. Merlin knew that it meant Arthur was troubled, that he was feeling things that his father had told him meant were a weakness. He was having a moment of vulnerability, and who could blame him? His sister had just openly declared war on him by killing one of his men for no good reason. Merlin only hoped that this mood didn't last for too long. Considering how he was feeling himself, he wasn't sure how long he could put up with it before he did or said something he regretted. He needed to be here now more than ever, and if he was honest, he needed to be with Arthur. He might not be able to tell the king the reasons behind his mood, but he needed to know how Arthur handled the knowledge that someone had just died for him. If he was honest, Merlin had no idea how he did it, knowing what Finna had done, knowing that she had done it for him, was killing him more than that arrow would have ever been able to do.

"Are you just going to stand there all day, Merlin?" Merlin jumped, not having realised that Arthur had known he had entered the room. He wasn't surprised though, moving further in and heading towards the dishes on the table without thinking about it. There wasn't a lot that could get past Arthur when it came to someone sneaking up on him.

"Merlin?"

It was only then that the servant realised he hadn't answered his king. Not that that was anything unusual, he had never exactly followed by the usual servant/master rules when it came to his relationship with the king. But for him not to have any comeback at all, that was enough for Arthur to turn around to stare at him.

"Hmm?" Merlin found that his gaze was locked on one of the dishes in his hand, studying the reflection looking back at him. How could this be the same boy who had stumbled into Camelot and insulted the prince all those years ago? Now he was serving a king and had people dying to protect him just the way that Arthur had. Who was it that he now saw looking back at him? Who was he becoming? As he turned the dish ever so slightly and the reflection distorted, Merlin sighed. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that.

"Something is troubling you." Arthur wasn't really asking, he was stating the fact as he moved across the room and sat down. Merlin didn't move, but found that he was gripping onto the dish with more intensity as he tried to stop his hand from shaking. He gave a jerky nod, but stayed silent.

"So tell me."

"I…"

"_Mer_lin, tell me what is wrong."

"I hate this!" Merlin blurted out, throwing the dish back onto the table and pressing his palms against the wood. He bent forward, breathing heavily as he tried to hold back tears. He should have done something to protect Finna!

"I hate feeling like there is nothing that I can do whilst innocent people suffer and die!" In a way, Merlin wasn't really paying attention to what was coming out his mouth. He just needed to express what was going through his mind, regardless of the consequences. He couldn't hide this, not when someone had died. He also trusted the fact that he had spent so many years lying and hiding that he knew how to rant without giving away what was really going through his head.

"I know." For once, there was no mocking comment about him being an emotional girl, no scathing remark telling him to shut up. Arthur's quiet voice cut through Merlin's ranting and he found that, just this once, he stopped talking before Arthur told him to. His mouth snapped shut and he sagged, leaning against the edge of the table.

"How can you take it? That knight had done nothing to anyone, only doing his duty. Yet Morgana had murdered him, simply to get at you." In Merlin's mind, however, he had switched the roles. The knight had turned into Finna and Arthur into himself. He just wanted to know what Arthur's advice was, what he was going to say.

"I remember what he died for." Arthur's voice was barely more than a whisper and Merlin didn't need to look at his king to know that Arthur would be studying the table with a fierce intensity as to avoid looking Merlin in the eye. "And I make sure that he did not die in vain. To let his sacrifice go understated, without bringing to justice those who performed the deed is the worst betrayal possible."

"But it was Morgana who killed him. How can you say that you will bring her to justice, you know what our chances of winning are."

"Then I make damn sure I make her regret coming after us!" Arthur's fist thumped onto the table and he half rose before seeming to catch himself and falling back. Merlin didn't even move, he was too used to Arthur's outbursts. Arthur had got better as he had got older, but with things happening the way they were, it was of no surprise that he was stressed.

"Arthur…"

"Just leave me, Merlin. Please."

Merlin took a step towards the door, his own emotions whirling. How can he accept Finna's death when Arthur couldn't accept the death of a man who had sworn to die for Camelot? She had no allegiance to a monarchy or a place, just to him. The man who had spent his entire life in hiding and had even uttered the words that might have sealed Arthur's opinion on magic for the rest of time. Yet she had still trusted in his destiny, just the way that so many others had. How many more would have to die to keep his secret safe?

"Merlin?"

"Sire?"

"In answer to your question…" Arthur's voice was controlled now and he finally met Merlin's eyes. There was grief for the man spiralling deep within, but it was almost lost behind the fierce determination blazing within his own eyes. "I don't take it. But I make sure that I don't forget, and I try my hardest to make sure that it doesn't happen to another."

Merlin nodded, offering his king a small smile before slipping out of the door. He didn't go very far, just far enough away so he could lean against the wall without being in plain sight of anyone vaguely near the King's chambers. Somehow, Arthur's words had helped more than if the royal admitted that he just put it to one side and acted as if it had never happened.

He didn't forget, and he didn't forgive. But he didn't let it consume him, only motivate him into doing the right thing. Arthur might have made it his mission to make sure that no more of his men were killed in the fight against magic, but Merlin found that his back was straightening as his magic tingled pleasantly under his skin. Arthur thought it was his duty to protect the Kingdom, and Merlin knew that it was his duty to protect Arthur.

That had to come first, the way that it had always done. With no king, Camelot was nothing, Morgana would have won. Merlin knew the chances were that more would be lost on the way, but standing in the middle of the corridor, he found himself making a vow.

He would not let Finna's death go unremembered. He was going to make sure that Morgana paid for what she had done to the loyal woman. He was going to fight with everything that he had. But it wasn't just Arthur he would be protecting. Right now, Merlin could feel his magic wanting to protect everyone he had ever met, no matter how briefly. He would have loved for Morgana to try and attack him right now, for he was sure the witch would have been blasted into a thousand pieces where she stood.

His back straight, gold dancing around the very edges of his irises, Merlin didn't even notice that he had suddenly stopped feeling the wound in his side. He had stopped being pressed down by his guilt and grief, he had stopped being crushed by the sheer responsibility of his destiny. Instead, he had come to a decision, one he hoped that Finna would be proud of wherever she was now.

He would not be seen as the servant any more, but instead would emerge as the warlock.

That much, at least, he owed the woman who had given her life for him without a second thought.


End file.
